


His Call

by drawingblinds (breathtaken)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-20
Updated: 2005-12-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/drawingblinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before I could be here, make you believe in this, I had to learn to believe so much myself."</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Call

In the half-light of Paris streets at midnight I saw him there, dressed as he was at the barricades, hair, remarkable hair, pooling silver to his shoulders. He stood at the foot of my bed, one hand upon the bedpost. I did not ask when they will find his body.

"Tomorrow at dawn," he replied. "I made it past the _Pont au Change_ , would you believe. That reminds me, I must retrieve my hat. I'm glad those damned fools at the Prefecture won't dispose of it for a few days. I like that hat." He saw the look on my face. "Time is only for the living, Valjean."

"Why...why are you here?" I asked, bewildered and yet strangely calm, as though we were following a script we had rehearsed many a time before.  "Furthermore, why did you leave?" 

"I killed myself." He smirked.

I pulled a face, sighing. "You know exactly what I mean, Javert. You always seemed the last person to take such a cowardly step." He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I think it's cowardly, running from your problems instead of solving them."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you insist. I killed myself for a number of reasons, not all of them clear to me. It was mostly because you had turned my world upon its head, and I did not know what more purpose I could have. But everything happens for a reason, Valjean, and I know many more things now, though it has taken a great deal of time -  not your time, but the time of the soul."

"But...to kill oneself? You are not in Hell?"

"God judges not on deeds. God sees your soul and He knows you. But before I progress...I have learned much, Valjean, but the greatest knowledge is is of a gift I have ever possessed, but never used - the gift of love."

I was in turmoil. At last, the reason for his return was clear, and it was more wondrous and more horrifying than I could ever have imagined. "I..."

"Love Cosette, yes you do; you give her all the love you could give to a woman. But you have never desired a woman, Jean, never been rendered sleepless for one, never lost all hunger for anything else."

"But you..."

"Hate you? No, I do not." He sobered, looking almost like the Javert I remembered. "I have learnt...that you are not my father." 

He stepped to the side of my bed, and knelt there, his swarthy face more hollow and shadowed in the bleak window light than ever I remembered. I took a gulp of air. "But...God..."

He smiled, his bestial features kindly. "Do you not realise that it was He who sent me?" He held my gaze with his queer, transparent eyes as he gently brought his lips to mine.

I did not move. I was stunned, rooted to the spot. I knew I was upon the brink of something terrifying and incredible. Then I noticed that Javert still held my gaze, his eyes round as my own. I could not think of him as Javert now, when he was so different, yet still the same.

"Arnaud is my name," he whispered. "Call me Arnaud."

"Arnaud -" I whispered hoarsely, and it was everything he was, everything it should be.

"You are not the only one to fear, Jean." His voice was low, soft, comforting, like a woolen blanket on a sharp winter night. "Before I could be here, make you believe in this, I had to learn to believe so much myself. But now it is a journey we make together," he murmured, and kissed me again, softly at first, but building a passion that stirred the very blood in my veins.

Soon I ached for him all over, and sensing this with an instinct not quite earthly, he drew himself into my bed. For a few moments we just lay in sweet conjoinment, savouring the feeling as every inch of our bodies were pressed together. But the hunger grew great again, and though I yearned to have it sated, I could feel his desire in all its heat and strength against my thigh, and it scared me. I felt as though the beast I could unleash was so powerful it could destroy us both.

"Jean. Jean, trust me. This is right." Javert - _Arnaud_ \- took his lips to my neck, and my hand to the neck of his shirt. I ran a finger experimentally along his collarbone and he moaned, a low, guttural sound that stirred both my loins and my longing for him, to be one with him, flesh on flesh. With a sudden recklessness of desire I grabbed his collar and ripped, tearing the shirt apart in one swift movement.

"I rather liked that shirt." His breath was hot and shallow against my ear, hitching as I explored his chest, broader than my own but nearly as muscular. "However, I do not care for these trousers at all. If you wish to destroy anything more -" My hands were at his waistline, and yet again I halted, unsure. "Jean -" He slid his hands down and touched me so intimately that I gasped. "Have no fear." He then drew his hands to my own, and when mine were moved to the buttons on his trousers, I did not protest.

It was not long before we were entirely free of clothing, and oh! what a revelation it was to be able to press up against him, to explore every inch of each other's bodies without hindrance, to burn for him! And what sweet, delicious friction as we moved against each other...I could hardly bear it, and never wanted it to end.

When he moved on top of me, he whispered, "Are you ready for this?" I saw the care in his eyes and I loved him then, as men love women, as we love the partner that God has chosen for us. And I knew that I would gladly surrender the deepest recesses of myself to him, if we could be one for this brief, beautiful night.

He took my left hand and pressed a small glass jar into it. "Will you prepare me?" I flushed violently as I understood exactly what he was asking of me, and I realised that I was not at all _au fait_ with how things were between men. Still, I unscrewed the cap and dipped two fingers into the jar. The substance felt silky, like thin sugar icing, and slightly cool. Taking a deep breath, I applied it to the length of him, feeling his low moans run through the broad chest that pressed down on my own.

Then he cupped my face in his hand, and murmured, "Are you ready, Jean? Do you want this - me?" His eyes were swirling waters of emotion, and I could see that he also shared my fears.

"Arnaud." I smiled up at him, hair tousled and a sheen of sweat upon his southern skin, and pulled his lips to mine in a fierce and possessive kiss, all the passion and yearning that I could not express in words. It was then that I felt him, haltingly and awkwardly, begin to make his way inside of me. It was a strange feeling and a painful one, but I held him tight to me and breathed in his scent, reminding myself that I must trust him.

He started to move in me, slowly, carefully. He was coarse - and yet so tender! My eyes filled with tears for this man, who had never known another, who now gave to me his body and soul in their entirety...who now caressed me so intimately and stirred in me a searing, flaming bliss...I loved him, this man whose life had always been entwined with mine as our bodies now were, who touched and stroked and explored and held with such skill and such care and such beauty that I half screamed his name as we came together, in a blinding white-hot flash that shook us right through until we collapsed together, spent, and kissed, ever so tenderly, once more.

The night's events had tired me, and I could feel myself slipping towards sleep, and sighed contentedly at I leaned into his waiting arms. "Arnaud..."

"Jean, I cannot stay, you must know this." I felt myself chill all over, and opened my mouth to speak, but he continued. "It is not for us to walk in the sun; quite another garden waits for me." He spoke haltingly, and I noticed for the first time that he was never quite at ease with language, never had been. "I was sent to love, and I have loved...and I can feel Him calling me." He placed a kiss on my mouth, and though gentle in touch I could feel within it the passions of a lifetime that he had kept all for this night, this encounter, and I was shocked by the force of his love. "When He calls you too, I will be waiting." I felt his arms fade from around me, until I was alone once more.

And I knew as I lay that night in my bed, the imprint of his lips still upon mine own, that all I wished was to live out the rest of my days in silence and wait for His call.


End file.
